


Relative to Each Other

by abductedgoblin



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Human, Everyone Is Gay, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Queer History, a look into the difficulties of a queer relationship in the 1950s, also france is genderfluid smd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 12:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20488691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abductedgoblin/pseuds/abductedgoblin
Summary: Human AU - 1950'sJoin me as we follow two love stories that take place in the 1950's.  They happen in the same world, the same context, but seperated by distance.The year is 1952 and Arthur Kirkland, a British reporter, is covering the Mattachine Society and the trial of Dale Jennings.  Upon doing so he finds himself in the center of queer life in Los Angeles.  This is where he meets Francis Bonnefoy, the most beautiful person Arthur had ever seen.Meanwhile in Huston, Texas two physicists, one American and one Russian, meet at a local bar.  The bar well known in the community for being a place for men to meet men, and the two hit it off.  However, McCarhyism is still running rampant, and Alfred and Ivan must hide their connection, least Alfred lose his job and Ivan be accused of being a spy, blackmailing Alfred.





	Relative to Each Other

**Ivan **

I’m not very good with words, especially since English is my second language, but that doesn’t seem to matter much right now as the gentleman next to me is doing all the talking. I am grateful for this, because if I had been given a chance to speak, I would not have even known what to say. I had not been listening for I was too busy admiring him. There was no one like him where I came from. He radiated joy like the sun radiates light, and filled me with warmth.

We are both physicists, but he does not know this. All he knows is that I am from another country, and I have come here to live the American dream. He does not know my name, he does not know that I have been unable to find work, he does not know that with every passing moment I am falling more and more in love with him.

As I shift my attention back to his words I realize that he’s discussing the theory of relativity. I know this theory better than I know my name, but he is explaining it in a way that makes me feel like a student again. We drink and he talks for hours. I listen and pose questions, each of which he answers excitedly.

Time passes strangely, and before I know it the bartender is telling us that it is the last call, and not long after that it is time for us to go.

“You are drunk,” I said to my companion, “Let me take you home.” I stand and there is the first moment of silence as he looks me over.

He laughed and proclaimed, “They make ‘em big where you come from, don’t they? Where did- excuse me- where did you say you were from again?”

“Poland,” I said, my thick Russian accent betraying me.

Whether he was too drunk to care, or he could not tell the difference, Alfred did not call my bluff, but nodded and then wobbly stood up. I reached out to steady him, but held back as he grabbed the cane on his other side and used that to support himself. He was so young, so well built, that it had not occurred to me that the cane could be his. He noticed my attempt, however and began to laugh again.

“Caught you by surprise huh?” He twirled the cane, “Got shot during the war, right in the leg, the doc said I was lucky to not lose it. Drafted at 18 and discharged by 19. Oh! Don’t look so beat, buddy, I came home alive and the government paid for my education. Ain’t gonna get much better than that. Now uh, if you’ll give me a moment I need to use the restroom real quick and then we can cop a breeze.”

As he left I turned to finish my drink, and was met with a piercing stare from the barkeep.

“If you’re going to lie about being Polish,” he said, gesturing to the flag behind him, “then, like, at least do it in a bar that isn’t owned by a Pole.”

“I-” I began, but he cut me off.

“He doesn’t care if a person is American, French, Russian, whatever. He’s here a lot, and it seems like he likes you, maybe it’s because you’re,” he looked me up and down, “tall and muscular, or maybe it’s because you listened to him ramble, so, like, you shouldn’t lie to him.”

I narrowed my eyes, trying to pick my next words carefully. “You do not… sound Polish.”

“And you don’t look like a queen,” he said with a smirk, before adding, “Don’t worry half the men who frequent my bar are too.”

I was beginning to ask if Alfred was also a friend of Dorthy when he returned, limping and grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh hey! You’re still here!” He proclaimed, likely louder than he had intended.

I nodded. “I said I would walk you home.”

“Riiiiiiiiiight, right,” Alfred nodded, “Dunno why though I’m fine- Oh shit I forgot my cane!” He rushed back to the bathroom.

“Is he-” I began but the Pole shot me another glare.

“Okay!” Alfred said, slapping his hand onto my shoulder, “If you insist on supervising, then I’m reading to go home!”

And as we left the bar and made our way to Alfred’s Huston apartment, I assumed what I wanted about the cheery American.


End file.
